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Blood & Fur [BurningWillows/DementedRabbit]

With Eira's words, Sigurd nodded to the little wolf and guided her to the gate of the town, some of the residents did not even notice Eira till Sigurd passed to show the red haired beauty behind his bulky frame. As the two walked to the gate Sigurd waved to the guards men to let him know they where going out, the gate slowly opens, creaking as giant doors turn open.

"Come little wolf we have much to do and the day is far from over." Sigurd reached out for her hand and guided the little wolf out into the gloomy forest, Deeper they went the sun seemed to be unable to shine as it turns to night under the trees and a thick fog rolls within it. The snow was so thick in these parts Sigurd would notice the little wolf having trouble keeping up, he stops and turns to her.

"We wont get there in time like this." With out question he picks her up and places her cute little ass on his shoulder to carry her the rest of the way. " Perhaps you can see what I can not from up there."

The rest of the day they made there way to the cabin or what was left of it, a burning husk of what was once a home to a family, Sigurd put Eira down as he started to sniff around.
" Little wolf, now would be the time to find any of your mothers things to take back and help you on your path to become a shaman, if that is what you wish to be."

Sigurd placed his bear cloak on a dead tree limb and then took off his pants, before a deep growl came through and for the first time you see the man become the wolf in a transformation that seemed to pain the man as he grew bigger and taller, jet black fur and the only thing to give off that it was still Sigurd was his eyes, one yellow and one blue. The Wolf sniffed out the house before moving out and around and disappearing into the fog looking for something, and leaving Eira alone to find what she could.
 
Eira was surprised how well her hand fit into his, even though in comparison her little fingers were half the size of his own, and as he clasped her palm it seemed to disappear in his grasp. But still it fit perfectly, sitting daintly in his. And it helped her stay balanced in the thick snow, much deeper than any of her hunting trails. She was wearing her thick lined boots again for travelling in the snow but nothing could help her keep up with his quicker and larger pace. Still she was surprised when he turned around and spoke before reaching down and picking her up. A cry left her lips until he settled her on his shoulder and she blushed, the fabric of her dress so sheer she could feel the brush of fur on her ass from the cloak. He almost even got a smile from her.

“I can,” she exclaimed, looking around. She had never been so high. The forest looked completely new, “I’ll tell you if I spot anything.”

They fell back into comfortable silence, neither speaking again till the remains of her family home started to peek through the trees. A hand lifted to her mouth to choke back a sob, the grief fresh once more. He let her down and she numbly nodded to his words, afraid to move closer to the burnt remains of what had been always been there since she was born. Her eyes only peeled off the remains when she heard a growl and turned quickly, her eyes popping to see him mid-shift. It was a sight to behold, though not a pretty one. But Eira was shocked. Werewolves, as they were, did not have the power to control their shifts. The moon and its cycles controlled that. When the full moon came her shift did too, and on some nights she would not remember what happened by the time she woke up, in the flesh, the morning after. Her father told her only the strongest warriors in body and mind could control their shifts, and these strongest were often alpha to a clan. But Sigurd was not.

She gasped as he finished shifting, staring at those familiar eyes.

“Sigurd...”

She didn’t have a chance to say more. He sniffed the air and loped off into the trees, leaving her entirely alone. She wanted to call after him but held back. What if he lost control and attacked her? Or forgot who she was? We only just met...I may not have made an impression in his memories. Best to hope he returns for me...as Sigurd.

Steadying herself she turned back to the burnt husk of a cabin and with tearful eyes stepped in. First she found her family, sobbing as she fell to her knees before them. Her mother had died hugging her tiny brother, her father by the front door, showing he had tried to fight the attack. She carefully dragged the bodies into the snow and found what cloth she could that hadn’t turn to ash, wrapping them. There was just enough though to cover her mother, and she wasn’t going to leave her brother and father exposed. That was not the way to honour the dead.

Shrugging the cloak off, the winter cold bit at her skin and she shivered but did not let it deter her. Taking her knife she cut the front and back of her skirt, slicing from the top of each slit until she had two long pieces of cloth. One fit over her brother perfectly. The other covered half her father, and with a little delicate fiddling she was able to cut out a portion of the leather hide on the inside of her cloak and finish covering him. Her teeth chattered as she worked, her legs completely exposed up to her mid thigh. She tugged the cloak back on to save the rest of her warmth and started to work on making a makeshift sled to carry her family back to the clan, to bury them proper. Her father had taught her well how to cut trees, chop wood, and tie them together. And she had made sure to bring rope from Sigurd’s home. Within an hour she had a flat slate of wood tied together, with her family covered and wrapped, strapped down to it so they could not slide off. Her tears had not stopped falling as she let the grief consume her in this hour, finishing her work with a rope attached to each side of the sled for Sigurd or herself to drag with.

She picked winter flowers and lay them on their perished forms, whispering the rites her mother had taught her to respect the dead and send them on to Valhalla. Then she rose, her lips nearly blue, and stepped back into the remains of her home, sifting for anything unscorched that could be of use.

She found very little. A charm, a broken talisman, a few bottled ingredients that the fire hadn’t taken. The books were all destroyed. Nothing of use had truly made it. She only found after much searching a bracelet burnt but not destroyed that she recognized as her mothers, a favourite of hers to wear during rituals, blessed by the gods she would say. Eira tugged it on and wiped her tears away, shaking and shivering in the cold despite the cloak covering the back of her legs.

“Sigurd?!” She called out, hoping he was nearby. It had been over an hour. Where had he gone? I do hope he did not abandon me here! No, he seems kind. He would not leave me to die in the snow. Could it be any colder out here? I can feel winter biting at my nether regions in this disasterous skirt.

She tugged it, trying to get it even a bit lower but it had no room to budge. If he lifted her into his shoulder again it was bound to ride up and expose her. Will he notice?
 
Sigurd... " The soft voice from the little wolf cry out for him, but he was on a mission to find and know who this new clan was and why they where so bold to enter this land of Darksummers...
On all fours the Wolf of Sigurd made haste through the woods picking up mixed scent till one stood out of the others, one like the Clans men, a camp site? Sigurd discovered a snow covered camp site, ruined tents and a fire that once burned, sniffing through the snow for a moment to discover a book with a strange emblem on it, taking it with him, Sigurd knew he was out too long to far for the little wolf, rushing back with book in his mouth, his focus now was Eira.

Finding the little wolf cold and blue, Sigurd reverted back to his human form, taking the bear cloak from the tree and wrapped it around Eira.

" Little wolf the cold snaps at you, I see the family is ready for the trip... you did good, I will make a fire and let the warmth take you before heading out."

Sigurd with his tall status reaches up for dry branches, piles them together and lights them with flint and steel from a leather pouch wrapped around his ankle.

" Here Eira... warmth, I do not wish to lose you." Sigurd did notice the skirt and could not shake the thought out of his head... her and him embraced for the first time...

Sigurd turned to a tree and heads butts the trunk to rattle the thought, indented, splintered by the man's large head, he simply shook it off.

"Forgive me Eira, and do not worry I needed to break impure thoughts of y.... things."

The man stops and for the first time she watches him blush before turning to look around, reached down to help the young wolf up and without asking picked her up once more to place on his shoulder and with the other hand gripped the rope to pull her family to the town of DArksummers.

" Do you like Elk, Eira? my mother is making Elk stew this evening it is most hardy..."

Sigurd trailed off as the dark trees made his eyes glow even brighter than they normally would, and silence fell as he walked with Eira and family through the Weeping woods.
 
Eira was relieved to see him. She almost wanted to hug him, the steam rolling off his large form as he shifted back to flesh. But she held herself in place, teeth chattering cold.

“P-please,” she stuttered, unable to stop her lips from shaking, “I d-didn’t hav-v-ve enough c-c-cloth.”

She tugged at her skirt again as he wrapped his cloak around her over her own, warming her more. Then he built a small fire. She stood next to it, her legs pale and cold but warming, the fire light dancing across her porcelain skin. As she warmed she slipped his cloak off to hand back to him, holding her hands out over the fire to warm her fingers.

“Thank you Sigurd, I-“ her head snapped up at the loud crackling sound to see the indent as he pulled back, “Sigurd are you okay?!”

Impure thoughts? She looked around then down at herself and blushed fiercely, catching his own cheeks warming like hers. Thoughts about me?!

She didn’t know what to say to that. And it seemed now was not the time to bring it up. Drenching the fire and pulling her cloak tight she let him pick her up again, aware as the cloak billowed out behind her and down her back that the fur of his cloak tickled her bare thighs, and his arm holding her in place was touching her bare calves.

“I do,” she nodded, “I would catch elk often for my family. I had yesterday, but when I saw the smoke I left my kill to run and find my family... stew sounds wonderful. Will I be meeting her?”

They went over rough patch of snow and she almost lost her balance, her hand reaching out and gripping his hair, digging her fingers in tight as she steadied herself.

“Sorry. Almost fell.”
 
"Sorry. Almost fell." Eira's words fell over the man's ears and his response was just a simple grunt as the man walks through the snow and now as the two close in on the town of Darksummers Sigurd speaks for the first time in a while.

"Little wolf... you will meet my mother this time, Retrieving the food is now the little wolfs turn. The house at the end of the main street with all the three guards is the main house of Darksummers, do not be scared little wolf, My mother is the blonde with a red cloak and black dress, she stands out above the rest. Will that is going on I will take the family and give them the burial they deserve."

Walking through the gate pulling the make shift sled the people of the town watch and look on, the bodies being pulled but mostly the little red wolf on top of Sigurd's shoulders, as most where in awe of her beauty since most did not get to see the woman last time, hiding behind the giant man as they left earlier that morning. Sigurd stops in the town square in front of the town well and simply pointed to the house Eira should walk to.

" If I finish before the food finds its way to our house... I will come find the little wolf."

Sigurd with a brave hand, slapped her from behind.

Now the wolf drags the bodies to the site of the dead to wrap the bodies and have the undertaker start digging three graves...
 
Eira blinked and became nervous. Meet his mother? Alone? She didn’t know why she was nervous, they certainly weren’t together, but something about meeting Sigurd’s mother had her stomach churning with butterflies.

“Alright,” she murmured, her hand still in his hair for support. As they entered town she became more wary of herself, noticing the looks she was getting and assuring herself it was her ripped skirts showing off her legs. Eira didn’t realize how beautiful she was.

Letting her down in the town square she hugged her cloak around her and bit her lip adorably, looking on at the home he pointed out.

“Your...brother won’t be there will he?”

She didn’t want to be alone with him again, not without Sigurd there to defend her. But he was heading away, patting her behind a little unexpectantly. She blinked and blushed, watching him walk away then scurry for the home, wishing she was with him and her family, putting them to rest.

Staring at the looming guards she gently knocked on the door, waiting nervously for an answer.
 
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